


Fixing You and Me

by Sweetgirl2019



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Angst, Drama, Heartbreak, Language, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:15:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22094707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sweetgirl2019/pseuds/Sweetgirl2019
Summary: Ian and Mickey are on the outs after the Courthouse disaster. How do they fix what's broken between them?
Relationships: Ian Gallagher & Mickey Milkovich, Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 16
Kudos: 210





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> This is just my version of how the next couple episodes could go down. I gotta say, knowing that Gallavich is getting married (unless Shameless is REALLY screwing with us) has helped me manage the heartbreak I know is coming this week. But as much as the next couple episodes before their reunion will hurt, I think it will hurt in a good way. It will show growth, love and acceptance. Fears will be faced. That's what I'm hoping for, anyway.

*****

Holding onto his crutches with one hand, Ian grabbed the railing and slowly hobbled down the stairs. Struggling across the house, he made his way towards the kitchen before falling into the empty seat across from Liam. “Got any coffee?”

His younger brother tossed him a look of pity as he poured a mug. The moment he had the cup in his hand, Ian chugged the hot liquid down. He had never felt the emptiness beside him more strongly than the past five nights, sleeping without Mickey in his arms. Insomnia had become his latest friend, too many thoughts and worries that kept him awake every night.

“Morning,” Lip muttered as he walked inside the house, reaching for a bagel Liam had laid out. “Tami’s taking Freddie for a walk so I probably have twenty minutes before she calls me or comes back.”

He took the empty seat between his brothers and dug into the bagel. Just as Ian opened his mouth to speak, quiet footsteps sounded across the house, the front door closing moments later with Mickey walking out. Before Ian could decide if following was worth the effort to reach for his crutches, Liam made a noise that made them glance through the window outside.

“Who the hell is that?” Lip asked, his brows furrowing.

The moment Ian’s gaze fell on the shorter man standing beside a green vespa, his eyes narrowed to a glare.

“Is Mickey seriously getting on a vespa?” Lip chuckled. “The fuck is going on? Who is that guy?”

“Mickey’s a punk,” Ian replied, steering his gaze away from the window.

After two days of radio silence, Mickey had finally agreed to talk. What Ian had been expecting was another fight, an argument or tears or anything to air their emotions out. Instead, Mickey had calmly told him that the relationship was done. He’d met someone else and would soon be moving out. Ian had felt the words like a knife to his gut, stabbing him over and over as he slowly bled out. Before Ian had the chance to argue, fight or even step out of his shock long enough to comment, Mickey had disappeared out the door. Vanishing for two days, he had returned last night to crash on the couch, ignoring a fuming Ian alone in their bedroom on the second floor. When Ian had hobbled downstairs ready to fight, to tell him off or beg him to stay, Mickey had repeated that the two of them were done. The words carried a finality that had shocked Ian to his core, bringing back memories of a time years ago, after Frank had caught them at the Kash and Grab. _Done, done, done_.

“Mickey’s dating a glittery twink named Byron,” Liam spoke up, his comment dragging Ian out of his trance.

“What?” Lip coughed, spitting out the hot coffee he had choked on. “The hell are you talking about?”

With a shrug, Liam quickly made his exit, slamming the door shut on his way out. Knowing his brother was waiting for answers, Ian glanced towards the crutches that were resting by the counter, considering his options of escape.

“When the hell did you and Mick break up?” Lip asked, lowering his mug to the table. “A few days ago, you were asking me if you should lie for him with the cops.”

“Long fucking story,” Ian said, finally turning to face his brother.

“I have sixteen minutes,” Lip replied, his brow raising expectantly.

Sighing heavily, Ian leaned back in his seat and rubbed the nape of his neck, a nervous gesture he had picked up years before. “I thought Mickey killed Paula and he thought I killed Paula. Turns out, neither one of us killed Paula. It was Michelle, the lady I worked with at the ambulance company. Some kind of lover’s quarrel.”

“Okay, that’s fucked up but it doesn’t sound too bad.”

“Well, before we realized it was Michelle, I kinda proposed to him,” Ian added.

“You proposed?” Lip asked, eyes widening in surprise.

“Yeah, spousal privilege. We wouldn’t be able to testify against each other if it came down to it.”

“You couldn’t testify against each other?”

“You just gonna repeat everything I say?” Ian asked, his frustration winning out.

“Sorry, I’m just trying to wrap my head around all this,” Lip said, lifting his hands in the air. “That the only reason you proposed?”

“No,” Ian spoke quietly. “I fucking love him, you know? But I guess the main reason was keeping him safe from the cops. I didn’t want him to go back to prison.”

“So how the fuck did you go from proposal to breakup to Mickey dating _that_ guy?” Lip asked, reaching for his coffee again.

“His other PO sent him a news link while we were at the Courthouse, showing Michelle being arrested. We got called to the front desk, walked up and started arguing. He said I only proposed because I thought he was guilty.”

“Which is true,” Lip cut in.

“I love him too!” Ian snapped. “But fuck, we argued, he signed the certificate and I…hesitated.”

“Shit,” Lip said, shaking his head.

“I didn’t wanna do it for the wrong reasons, not if those reasons didn’t exist anymore, you know? And shit, it’s not like me and him ever really talked about any of this. I don’t know if I wanna get married _ever_!”

“Okay, before I unpack all of that craziness, what happened after?”

“He was pissed,” Ian said, his shoulders dropping in defeat. “He was pissed, hurt, upset. He wanted to leave, I followed and tried to talk to him. He punched me at the top of the stairs.”

“What the fuck? Is that how you broke your leg?” Lip asked, sitting forward in his chair. “He take you to the hospital at least or just leave you there?”

“What the hell do you think? Of course he took me to the hospital,” Ian said with a roll of his eyes. “He ran into the street, stopped some cab and made the guy drive us over. He didn’t say anything but he stayed with me ‘til the Doctor put the cast on. Sandy picked us up and drove us back home. I didn’t see him the next day and after that, he told me we were done and then _Byron_ picked him up.”

“Holy shit,” Lip said as he ran a hand through his hair.

“I was right not to sign the certificate. I know I was,” Ian exclaimed. “Instead of talking to me, this is how he reacts? He was pissed when he punched me but my fucking leg breaking was an accident. I know that. But him telling me we’re done and then going off with some random guy? What the fuck?”

“I kinda get the feeling you were right and wrong at the same time.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ian frowned, his defenses shooting high.

“Don’t get so defensive,” Lip said, raising a hand between them. “Look, our family life wasn’t exactly a bowl of sunshine growing up. Frank? Monica? Not exactly the best role models when it comes to this shit.”

“Exactly!” Ian cried. “How am I supposed to want marriage when Frank and Monica are the prime examples we had? All the ways they fucked us growing up?”

Lip watched him for a moment before answering. “You afraid of marriage?”

“Yes!” Ian snapped, his shoulders dropping a moment later. “Maybe? I dunno. Aren’t you?”

“I guess I was never really too big on commitment but I think it’s the person you’re with that matters too, you know? I want to make this work with Tami and if that means marriage down the line, then no, I guess I’m not really that scared about it. Or maybe I'll eat my words if and when the time comes,” Lip replied. “Ian, you should know this already but I’ll spell it out for you just in case your ginger head needs a reminder. You’re _not_ Frank. You know that, right?”

“But I _am_ Monica,” Ian said and quickly leaned back, the confession hanging in the air between them.

“No, you’re not,” Lip said after a beat of silence. “Just ‘cause you share the same genes, the same disease, doesn’t mean you’re like her.”

“Remember when I didn’t take the meds last time? All the shit I did? All the ways I fucked up?”

“That was years ago,” Lip argued. “You’ve been on meds for a long time. The Gay Jesus phase aside, you’re _good_ , Ian. You are.”

With a deep breath, Ian stared down at his mug, letting the words settle inside him. When the silence stretched for too long, he steered his gaze back up to see his brother’s mouth curved into a smile.

“Know what else I remember from back then? I remember Mickey. Fuck, me and Fiona, we had zero faith in the guy. He was a fucking Milkovich, you know? His fucked up family, his own issues, all that stuff. We didn’t think he could take care of you when you were first diagnosed but the guy really stepped up. He was there for you, cared for you, _loved_ you the way he could, even when the rest of us weren’t paying attention. The guy stood by you even though you cheated and stole his kid and you dumped him for it. Dickhead move, man.”

“I thought I was doing the right thing back then,” Ian said, but his voice carried little conviction.

“Still a dickhead move,” Lip shrugged. “Look, I’ve never been Mick’s defender. Not too sure I even fully like the guy but I’ll be real with you on a couple things. One, he really gave a shit about you, Ian. Even _I_ could see that and two, who we are, where we were raised, not forgetting shit that happened to us is the way we’re wired. We can’t forget and I’m betting you, he hasn’t forgotten shit from back then either.”

“It was years ago,” Ian argued but he looked away as he spoke the words.

“Time doesn’t mean shit, little brother.” Lip shook his head. “Guy was on the run in Mexico but he gave it all up to be in prison with you, even after you left him, didn’t he?”

“I never asked him to.”

“Don’t really think that’s the point. Pretty sure he did it ‘cause he loves you,” Lip replied and took the final bite of his bagel. “And unless you told him flat out that the only reason you wanted to get hitched was spousal privilege, how the hell else was he supposed to see the proposal other than you wanting to commit?”

Ian kept his gaze focused downward as his brother leaned across the table to pat his arm.

“If you weren’t sure, then yeah, you made the right choice. You stopping things was the right move but do you really not get why he’s pissed?” Lip asked, waiting until their eyes met before speaking again. “You love him?”

“More than anything,” Ian said without pause.

“Then you gotta ask yourself if you love him enough to make that commitment, to marry him. Frank and Monica, for too damn long, we let ‘em affect shit in our lives. Fuck, Fiona had her faults. I know that more than anyone but she gave a shit about us, you know? She tried to make things better. We can’t keep letting Frank and Monica’s ghost get in the way of our lives right now. We’re not kids anymore.”

“We don’t forget, remember? You _just_ said that,” Ian reminded, his eyes glazing over.

“Yeah, I know, but there comes a point where we gotta try and move on from it. Shit, I have a baby, Ian. I’m a fucking Dad. You think I don’t look in the mirror every day and wonder if I’ll end up being as bad as Frank? That Tami will end up ditching us like Monica did? Those fucking questions are always in the back of my mind but as big as those fears are, a bigger part of me wants to break the fucking pattern. I want to be a better Father than Frank. I want my kid to have a better life than we did. You gotta do the same. You gotta ask yourself if you love Mickey enough to work through whatever fears you have.”

“What if I can’t?” Ian asked, his voice quiet.

“If you can’t, how many times do you expect the guy to keep coming back?” Lip said, reaching out to pat his shoulder.

The door opened and Tami walked in with the stroller, Freddie strapped to her front. Ian sat in his chair and watched as Lip pulled his baby boy into his arms. Ignoring the narrowed look Tami sent his way, Ian’s eyes followed them as they disappeared through the back doors before his attention fell to his crutches again. Sighing heavily, he rose to his feet and limped over. With the crutches secure under his arms, he made his way outside to the street below. With Kev and V waving at him from their car a few houses down, Ian returned the greeting and hobbled over.

  
********  
  


Making his way down the sidewalk, Ian stopped at the side of a building, leaning against it to catch his breath. Kev had dropped him off an hour ago and he’d spent most of his time wandering the streets. He had no destination in mind, just walking from one end to another, his mind a jumbled mess of thoughts.

_Were he and Mickey done?_

_Was Mickey just trying to make him jealous?_

_Would Mickey come back to him once the separation stretched on?_

_Was Mickey fucking the new guy?_

_Was the new guy fucking Mickey?_

_Was he afraid of becoming like Monica?_

_Was he afraid of being a burden?_

The thoughts had flooded his mind as he wandered. He conceded that there was truth behind Lip's words but a part of him still couldn’t believe how upside down everything had become. A week ago, he had woken up in bed, warm under the blankets, with Mickey in his arms. He had rolled Mickey over, planting him flat on his back where he liked him most, and spent the morning showing his boyfriend just how much he mattered. Even with the issue of Paula and her demands looming over them, things had been good that morning. Things had been perfect. Then everything had come crashing down. One week later, Ian was moving around on crutches following the disaster at the Courthouse and Mickey had broken things off before walking out, finding a new boyfriend in between it all. Nothing made sense anymore. How had they gone from perfect bliss to a horrible breakup?

_Because of you_.

He sighed at the voice in his head. His fears were legitimate. He knew they were. Why couldn’t Mickey understand?

“Ian!”

Looking up, he searched through the crowd on the sidewalk to see Debbie waving at him from a bench several feet away. Moving over slowly with his crutches, he fell to the spot beside her, taking a moment to glance through the shopping bags littering the floor.

“More money from Fiona?”

“No,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I’m seeing someone.”

“What, and they're paying you?” Ian frowned.

“No!” she hastily replied before brushing the hair over her shoulder. “Tami called me a while ago, bitching that you were monopolizing Lip’s time.”

“Seriously? What is with that girl? She keeps calling me and Mick felons.”

“Maybe because that’s what you are?” Debbie said with a laugh.

“That’s not _all_ we are,” he muttered.

“I talked to Liam, too. He said you were moping around all pathetic because Mickey dumped you for some new twink.”

“He didn’t dump me!” Ian snapped but the unimpressed look on her face made him backtrack. “Alright, he did, but it’s fucked up and I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Let me tell you something,” Debbie started. “Our lives collectively suck. They sucked when we were kids, they continue to suck even now. The degree of suckage may vary from time to time, but everything generally sucks. I have Franny so obviously right now, things suck a little less.”

“There a point to all this?” Ian cut in.

“Do you love Mickey?”

“Of course I do. Why the fuck does everyone keep asking me that?” Ian frowned.

“Then stop feeling sorry for yourself, get off your ass and go get your man back. He’s probably only with that guy to prove a point.”

“Yeah, what point is that? That he can date other guys?”

“Exactly,” she said with a nod. “He _can_ , Ian. You’re not the only dick in the world.”

“My sister talking about my dick is a conversation I rather not have,” Ian replied.

“Jesus, sorry. You’re not the only _guy_ in the world,” she corrected but the defeated look in his eyes made her lean closer over the bench. “He comes from a family that’s just as fucked up and shitty as ours, if not shittier. But the love and loyalty the guy has for you is really something. I don’t think I’ve ever seen it like that anywhere else. Back then, with fucking Sammi, all the shit that went down, he _really_ loved you, Ian. He still does. So much of what the guy has done and does now is _because_ he loves you. Think maybe it’s your turn now?”

When a bus rolled to the stop moments later, she slid the shades over her eyes and grabbed the shopping bags from the ground. With a wave over her shoulder, she slipped inside the bus and disappeared out of sight. Once the bus had shot away from the curb and the dust behind had settled, Ian leaned backwards on the bench and ran a hand across his tired eyes. The moment he looked up and focused, a sudden laugh fell from his lips. Across the street, wedged between a tattoo parlor and a food mart was a second hand jewelers. All he wanted was for Mickey to come back. The rest of it he could deal with later. He just wanted Mickey back. Reaching for his crutches, he slowly moved towards the intersection, crossing over when the light turned green.

“Hello, hello, hello!” the greeting came the moment Ian had walked inside the shop. “Welcome to Antonio’s Jewels. I’m the owner, Antonio.”

Ian gave the older man a small smile and moved towards the glass casings. When he reached the wedding bands, he leaned his crutches on the counter and peered down.

“A girlfriend to propose to?” Antonio asked.

“Boyfriend,” Ian corrected, glancing up with a shy smile.

“Nothing matters but love!” the owner exclaimed, his grin bright as he opened the case and pulled a display out. “These are the best quality wedding bands we have for men. What is your boyfriend like? Is he showy? Flamboyant? Excessive?”

“Fuck no,” Ian chuckled, staring at the glittery rings. “He’d kill me if I got something like these ones.”

Antonio made a gesture with his hand and quickly pulled another set. “These one are more subtle.”

The first three rows were gold that Ian ignored. When his eyes fell on a group of silver wedding bands, he finally froze. Two were identical, the bands slightly thicker than the rest. They were simple but perfect, exactly what he wanted.

“Looks like these ones have caught your fancy,” Antonio said as he removed the rings from the display and watched as Ian twirled them around in his hand, feeling the weight and material. “Planning a romantic proposal?”

“He wants to get married,” Ian replied absently. “So I want to propose, you know?”

Antonio frowned at his words but before he could comment, Ian had already reached for his wallet.

  
********  
  


When the cab pulled away, leaving Ian on the side of the road, he looked up at the tall building Liam had texted him the address of. How his younger brother had managed the information, Ian didn’t know, but he took it as a sign and felt nothing but relief on the inside. With one ring snug on a chain around his neck and the other gripped tightly in his hand, he limped towards the building on the crutches. Searching through the resident numbers, he found the one he wanted and took a deep breath before pressing the buzzer.

_“Who is it?”_

Ignoring his sudden anger at the unknown voice, Ian leaned forward. “Is Mickey there?”

Silence was his only answer. Using the buzzer a second time, he waited as the seconds ticked by. When the silence continued longer than he wanted, he reached for the buzzer a final time but the front door burst open and Mickey stepped out.

“The fuck are you doing here?”

Swallowing the nerves that had quickly risen, Ian switched his weight to his good leg. “Can we talk?”

Mickey hesitated but his eyes scanned downwards to the cast before quickly moving back up. “You know I’m sorry about your leg, right? Sorry that shit happened?”

“I know,” Ian smiled and immediately felt his anxiety lessen.

They watched each other for a long moment before Mickey’s eyes caught on the ring around his neck.

“The fuck is this?” he asked, reaching out to flick it with a laugh.

“I got two,” Ian replied, opening his fist to show the second band.

Mickey’s gaze moved slowly between the rings, uncertainty heavy on his face before he met Ian’s eyes again. The quiet stretched for a tense moment until Ian moved closer.

“Can we please go home? We can get married, Mick. For real.”

Instead of the reaction he was hoping for, Ian’s shoulders dropped when Mickey took a step back.

“You don’t get it, do you?” Mickey asked, shaking his head in disbelief. “Fuck.”

“Get what? Just talk to me, please.”

“I’ve been pushing for something with you for a long fucking time and you can’t give it to me. Maybe you don’t want to, maybe you’re too fucking scared to. I dunno,” Mickey said and the defeated shrug he gave tore away at Ian’s heart. “But I’m done asking you for something you don’t wanna give.”

“Something I don’t wanna give?” Ian asked, his confusion bleeding through.

“Commitment!” Mickey snapped, oblivious to the people moving around them on the sidewalk. “The fuck you think was gonna happen, you showing up here with rings, telling me we can get hitched for real? Don’t you get the fucking problem?”

“No, I don’t get the fucking problem, so why don’t you spell it out for me!”

“You don’t fucking want this!” Mickey shouted and immediately looked around them, suddenly realizing that they were standing out in the open.

Ian felt the ache inside his chest clawing its way through him. “You think I don’t love you?”

“I know you do,” Mickey said, taking a breath to calm his anger down. “But anything more is the fucking line with you. How many times you bailed on me?”

“You bailed on me too, Mickey,” Ian exclaimed, hating the desperate feeling that was growing inside him.

“When? Back when we were kids, when Frank caught us? When I was deep in the fucking closet, terrified of my old man? Yeah, you’re right. I fucked up a lot back then. Treated you like shit,” Mickey said before he lowered his voice. “When’s the other time? When Terry was the one that caught us? When he held you at fucking gunpoint and threw a naked Svetlana on my lap? You think maybe that shit fucked with my head a little bit?”

Ian swallowed but couldn’t find the words he wanted.

“Look, I ain’t perfect like I’m sure all your other boyfriends were,” Mickey said and Ian could hear the hurt in the words. “I fucked up when we were younger but after the Alibi, _fuck_ , Ian, I thought things were different. I don’t fucking blame you for getting sick or all the messed up shit you did but I told you I _loved_ you and you fucking dumped me. Lana had to fucking _pay_ you to visit me, remember all that?”

Ian closed his eyes, feeling the tears forming at the broken words being thrown back at him. They had broached the subject a few times back in prison, but Mickey had always stopped himself from fully lashing out. He had clung to Ian like a lifeline in those moments and hearing the words now, Ian understood all the pain Mickey had been holding inside.

“Fuck, you moved on and forgot all about me, never even looked back. You think that shit doesn’t matter just ‘cause I never brought it up?”

Opening his eyes, Ian blinked through his tears but was lost for words a second time.

“You remember back in prison? When I said I turned my life upside down for you, gave up my freedom to be with you inside? Remember what your answer was? _I didn’t ask you to_ ,” Mickey said, all the fight leaving him.

Ian licked his lips but stayed silent. Their eyes fell on one another again, a mix of pain and defeat bouncing between them.

“Why don’t you get it? I love you, Ian. That means I’ll drop everything for you. I already fucking have. You just can’t do the same thing,” Mickey said and ran a hand through his hair. “You proposing and changing your mind? Same fucking thing. You keep ripping the rug out from under me, man. I’m done with that shit.”

“I proposed…,” Ian started.

“We fucking love each other, that’s why we’re gonna get married. Legal stuff’s just a bonus,” Mickey cut him off, the hurt in his voice making Ian swallow hard. “You said that to me, Ian. You said that at the diner but you fucking lied. Only reason you proposed was ‘cause you thought I was guilty.”

“No, that’s not the only reason,” Ian argued, shaking his head.

“I’m tired of this, Gallagher. Tired of being the one with all the fucking gestures. I’m just done,” Mickey said with a small shrug.

“Running around with some other fucking guy is your answer?” Ian spat, the roller coaster of emotions inside him bringing his anger out. “You trying to make me jealous, Mick? Is that it?”

Instead of rising to the bait, Mickey gave a sad smile that stopped Ian in his tracks. “Just tired of you breaking my fucking heart.”

“Mick,” Ian pleaded. “I’m not trying to break your heart. I fucking love you. This is me, my issues. It isn’t personal. It has nothing to do with you.”

“Yeah, it does,” Mickey replied quietly. "You and me both had fucked up childhoods. I got the violent, piece of shit sperm donor that taught me criminal shit, beat me whenever the fuck he wanted and almost fucking killed me when he found out I was gay. You have fucking Frank and Monica when she was around, fucking you up in different ways.”

“I…,” Ian started, feeling the sting of tears in his eyes again.

“When we were younger, it was me running from all that shit, running from whatever fucking feelings you brought out in me, you know? I was scared, man. But for years, you’re the one running scared.”

“Mick,” Ian whispered, his voice breaking on the name.

“For so fucking long, I never thought I deserved this,” Mickey said, laughing at the tears that glistened his own eyes. “Figured if I stayed in the closet long enough, no one would ever have to know. I’d end up in prison or dead like the rest of my fucking family. Then you fucking happened. You showed up with your ginger hair and big eyes and made me feel shit I never thought I could. You made me want _more_ , Ian. More than being another fucked up Milkovich.”

All Ian could do was stare as he wiped away the tear that had slipped down his face.

“Maybe you think you’re a fucking burden or something. Maybe that’s why you left me at fucking Mexico, maybe that’s why you dumped me all those years back. Or maybe you just don’t see a fucking future here,” Mickey shrugged and quickly cut Ian off when he tried to argue. “Honestly though, man, I don’t know what the fuck else I gotta do to make you see that I love you, that you and me are worth it.”

“Can you just come home, please?” Ian asked. “Just come home and we can talk about this more.”

“I spent a lot of fucking years coming back to you, trying to make this work but if you can’t do that for me, if you can’t make that _one_ fucking gesture back, then I’m done. Not gonna wait to get dicked around again,” Mickey replied.

The moment he turned away to move towards the door, Ian’s hand snapped out and grabbed his arm. They stood locked beside each other, both staring down at Ian’s grip. When the silence carried longer than either wanted, Mickey finally looked up and pulled his arm away.

“Go home, Gallagher.”

“Can we please just keep talking?” Ian pleaded, another tear slipping down his face.

Mickey regarded him for a long moment before stepping towards the street. As Ian watched from the sidewalk, he hailed the first cab and pointed backwards, rattling the address off to the driver.

“I’m not leaving without you,” Ian whispered. “It's your home too.”

“Not anymore,” Mickey said, his smile sad as he pushed past him to walk inside the building.

When the door shut behind him, Ian fell backwards against the wall, his body exhausted. The ache in his leg was throbbing but the pain in his heart was unmatched. He let his eyes close as he took a deep breath, his grip tight against the ring in his hand. He could hear the voice of the driver yelling in the background but all Ian felt was a mix of anger and misery, humiliation and grief. He was tired and defeated. Everything hurt. 


	2. TWO

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of people are predicting that Ian might propose on the stage at the concert and I really like that idea. Mine's just a bit different :)

*****

Caught in semi-consciousness, Ian tugged the pillow tighter in his arms as he flipped over in bed. His smile was soft and relaxed, his good leg lifting across the mattress as a happy noise slipped from his lips. Pressing his nose inward, he breathed in the soothing scent, his smile growing as he did.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Snapping his eyes open, Ian shot upwards, blinking his sleep away. His gaze fell onto his brother who was watching him in amusement from the doorway.

“Is that Mickey’s shirt you’re wearing?” Lip asked.

Gradually looking down, Ian stared at the black and white checkered flannel he had worn to bed. After the disastrous talk with Mickey last night, his mind had been all over the place. Stumbling upstairs to his bedroom, to _their_ room, his eyes had fallen on Mickey’s shirt, one that had been left behind, wedged between his own. In a moment of weakness, he had pulled the clothing on before burying himself under the blankets.

“Holy shit,” Lip said with a chuckle. “You have got it so bad, man.”

“Shut up,” Ian growled but instead of dragging the shirt off, he pulled it tighter around his own frame.

“You’re wearing his shirt and you were squeezing the shit out of that pillow. Did you think the pillow was Mick?” Lip asked but the sudden sadness in his brother’s eyes made him drop the banter and sit beside him. “Guessing this means your talk didn’t go too well?”

“He thinks me not wanting to get married means I’m not committed. That I’ll bail again,” Ian said, running his hands through his messy hair. “Fuck, we were _good_ , Lip. Really fucking good. Why’d he have to end things? Why’d I even open my stupid mouth and propose in the first place?”

“I get the feeling that maybe things weren’t as good as you think. This stuff would’ve come up eventually, one day.”

“Why the fuck did it have to happen now?” Ian growled.

“Look, I know you love him. Fuck, I don’t think I’ve ever been in as deep with anyone the way you are with Mick,” Lip said, reaching out to tug at the flannel Ian was wearing. “If you want my advice, I say you should marry him. Not because he wants you to or you think that’s the only way to get him back but because deep down, it’s what you want, too. It always has been. You’ve loved him since you were fifteen, back when the chance of a future between you was close to nothing. But now you have it, Ian. You’re both here, you’re free. You can have the life you want with him. You just gotta work through your issues and admit to yourself the reason why you hesitated.”

“Can’t I just make him jealous to get him back and deal with the rest later?” Ian asked, his words making them both chuckle lightly.

Hearing the distant sound of an engine from outside, Lip rose to his feet and moved to the window. “Mick’s here with the new guy.”

“Fucking hell,” Ian muttered, limping towards the window. “Son of a bitch.”

Before Lip could comment, Ian grabbed his crutches and stumbled out of the room. Hurrying down the stairs, he took a deep breath and reached for the door when his eyes caught sight of the shirt still clinging to his frame. Ripping it away, he tossed it past a confused Liam and swung the door open, making his way towards the street. When Mickey looked up and their eyes met, everything else around Ian dimmed. 

“Came by to grab the last of my shit,” Mickey finally said, breaking the trance that had taken hold of them. 

“Can we talk?” Ian asked, licking his lips as he stepped closer. “Just us, alone?”

“Anything you wanna say, you can say to the love of my life Byron,” Mickey replied, looking over to the wide-eyed man standing between them.

“Mick,” Ian whispered but the door suddenly opened, capturing their attention.

Liam bounced his way down the stairs, holding a small bag in his hands. “Last of your stuff.”

Mickey gave a smirk in thanks but before he could pull the bag towards him, Liam grabbed the clothing stuffed on top of the rest. 

“Wasn’t sure if this one was yours,” Liam said, watching his brother's eyes widen at the checkered flannel. “Wasn’t this the one you…?”

“Yeah, that’s mine!” Ian swiftly cut him off, grabbing the shirt and shoving it at Liam’s chest. “Thanks, little brother. You can go inside now.”

Liam made a noise but stuffed the shirt under his arm and disappeared inside the house again. Releasing a deep breath, Ian looked over to see Mickey staring at him in confusion. When their eyes locked, a spark filled the air around them until Mickey finally tore his gaze away.

“Let’s get the fuck outta here,” he muttered, moving towards the Vespa.

Byron glanced between them for a brief pause before he took a step forward. “Hey Ian? Wanna come check out a show tomorrow?”

“Jesus Christ. Read the fucking room, Byron,” Mickey groaned, aiming his glare at the shorter man.

Using the moment to his advantage, Ian took a step forward. “A show?”

“Yeah,” Byron nodded, his voice unsure. “It’s the Imperial Mammoth. I don’t know if you heard about them. They’re, like, my favorite band right now.”

“Wait,” Ian said, his smile growing as his eyes fell on Mickey again. “Yeah, they’re the hipster shit with the suspenders and the harp and all that, right? You’re going to that?”

Mickey's eyes rolled in annoyance, the move making Ian’s smile widen.

“Yeah, I could get you on the list, too. I mean, I don’t know if you need a plus one or whatever,” Byron said with a shrug.

“No, no, he don’t need a plus one,” Mickey cut in. “Ian’s got a lot of personal work he needs to do before he’s ready to play the field.”

Their eyes locked for a tense moment, challenging one another, neither willing to look away. With his other attempts at righting things between them having failed, Ian clung to the only lifeline he could think of and shook his head.

“No. _No_. Actually, I just took a page out of your playbook and attached myself to the first swinging dick I saw,” he said instead, a part of him feeling a sliver of victory when he saw Mickey’s jealousy flash back at him. “We barely know each other but man, it’s been a fairy tale so far. That’s actually why I wanted to talk to you. Looks like we both moved on. No need for things to be awkward, right?”

“Congrats,” Mickey forced the word out as he slipped a smoke between his lips.

Byron stared between them again and cleared his throat, cutting through the sudden tension. “It’s at that club Orchid on West Cermack at eight.”

“I know the place. It’s near the Alibi,” Ian said with a nod. “Really excited for you to meet my new guy. He’s fucking awesome.”

“Yeah? This fucking awesome guy have a fucking name?” Mickey asked, blowing the smoke out of his lungs.

“Why do you care?” Ian frowned.

“Curiosity, Gallagher,” Mickey replied, the dangerous glint in his eyes making Ian want to shred the distance between them.

“Jim,” he blurted instead.

“Can’t wait to fucking meet him,” Mickey muttered.

Within seconds, Byron had climbed on the Vespa and they shot away from the curb, leaving Ian to fall back against the fence. Irritation running through him, he limped his way back up the stairs, slamming the door shut behind him.

“He see you in the shirt?” Lip snorted form the kitchen.

Shoving his crutches against the counter, Ian fell into an empty chair. Grabbing the mug of coffee from Lip’s hand, he swallowed the hot liquid without care. Before Lip could make a noise of protest, Ian lowered the mug and dragged the laptop his brother was using towards him.

“I’m guessing talk number two didn’t go well either?” Lip asked after a minute.

“I actually bought rings, did I tell you that?” Ian said with a bitter laugh. “I went and bought wedding bands yesterday, went over to that guy’s apartment and told Mickey we could get married and he basically told me to fuck off.”

“He said that?”

“Gave me a fucking ultimatum. Either I really commit to him or he was done,” Ian replied, his anger bleeding through. “Where the fuck does he get off, giving me an ultimatum like that? He knows I love him. We were fucking together, we were fucking happy and he does this shit?”

“Look, why don’t you take a deep breath,” Lip suggested.

“I don’t need to take a deep breath. What I need is a fucking date," Ian muttered. "You don’t know Mickey like I do. Anyone comes near me and his jealousy radar snaps. Fuck, I’m pretty much the same with him, even if I don’t always show it, but that’s beside the point. His _new_ boyfriend invited me to go with ‘em to some concert tonight and I said yes.”

“So we’re back to jealousy again?” Lip asked, trying his best to keep up with the conversation.

“You gonna help me or not?” Ian snapped. “I told him I got a new guy, too, and I’m supposed to bring the guy tonight.”

“Ian,” Lip laughed in disbelief. “What version of this idiotic plan ends well in your head?”

“Just help me find a guy. Preferably, someone named Jim.”

“Jesus Christ,” Lip sighed and dragged the laptop back towards him. “Let me take over before you mess this shit up. Make you a fucking online dating profile.”

When a website pulled up moments later, Lip chuckled quietly as he started typing away. Ian watched him for several minutes, the rapid sound of key strokes filling the silence. When he was finally satisfied with what he had written, Lip’s smile curved upwards as he leaned back to read his creation.

“Ian Gallagher, mid-twenties, ginger sex God with an athletic body.”

“Fuck you if you wrote that,” Ian snapped but his brother held a hand up in defense.

“I also wrote that you’re a good guy with a good heart. You enjoy holding hands and long walks on the beach but a beer and a foul mouth get you going just the same. You’re looking for a guy to take your mind off your ex.”

“Did you seriously write that?” Ian groaned.

“Be glad I left out Gay Jesus and your stint in prison,” Lip deadpanned. “You looking for love? You looking to move on from Mickey?”

“No!” Ian exclaimed, his face scrunching at the thought. “I just wanna fix things.”

“And dating another guy to make Mickey jealous is your answer?” Lip chuckled but the defeated look on his Ian’s face made him lean forward after a moment. “If you ask me, I think it’s gonna be a clusterfuck but what do I know. Do it your way and hope for the best. The profile I wrote is enough to get some jackass to message you. This was the only photo of you on the computer.”

Ian glanced down at the screen, seeing an image of himself before prison. It had been back when he and Trevor had been together, before Mickey had escaped and crashed back in his world like a tidal wave. He and Trevor had gone to a fair a couple hours outside of town, spent the night playing games and eating food that he normally hated. Remembering back to that night, Ian’s smile slowly fell away. When Trevor had gone off to buy snacks, Ian had waited against the fence. He had been looking around the fair, bored and exhausted when a voice had pulled him out of his trance. His gaze had whipped to the side, his eyes following a raven haired man, dressed in jeans with a shirt that was too big for his small frame. The foul language, the swagger, the haircut were all so familiar that Ian had ran across the field. The moment he grabbed the stranger’s arm and spun him around, the face he had been hoping to see was not the one staring back at him. He had quickly apologized and stumbled backwards, his heart beating wildly as he went. Since the last time he had seen Mickey across the plate of glass in prison, he had never missed him more strongly than in that moment.

Trevor had returned soon after but Ian’s mood had changed. Looking across to his boyfriend, Ian had tried his best to be happy again but all he could feel was bitter disappointment. He had felt empty and shattered, brutally reminded that the Mickey shaped hole existed in his heart by his own creation. He had known that Trevor could sense the abrupt shift within him but Ian couldn't bring himself to care. In an effort to lift the dampened spirits, Trevor had snapped a photo but all he had done was capture Ian's heartbreak. The truth had become so suddenly clear. As much as he had cared for Trevor, he could never measure up to the love that belonged to Mickey. Trevor had been a distraction, a way for Ian to move on with his life. But as much as Ian had tried, he just couldn’t fit the pieces together the way he had wanted. Mickey's absence was no longer a forgotten memory but a truth that Ian had finally admitted. They had always been two pieces of the same whole, completing each other in every way and Ian had finally allowed himself to remember it.

Mickey had escaped from prison six days after that event. Seeing him again had awakened everything inside Ian, parts of himself that had dimmed after their relationship had ended. In the days after the fair, loneliness had been one of Ian's fears. It had made him keep Trevor close despite the unfairness, despite the truths he had inwardly admitted. That moment he had seen Mickey again for the first time in months had changed everything. Fiona had advised him that the thrill wasn't worth it, that she had been proud of how he had stabilized his life. But as much as being an EMT mattered, as much as he knew Trevor was the safe choice, everything paled to the feelings that Mickey awakened. When Mickey had walked towards him on the docks, he had lit a fire in Ian's heart and ignited his spirit. All he could think in that moment was holding Mickey again, feeling the weight against his chest, breathing the scent that always intoxicated him. Despite the few protests Ian attempted, Mickey had easily seen through him. Their connection was like no other, magnets drawn together, a never-ending spark that existed only between them. When their lips had found each other, tasting one another for the first time in so long, when Mickey had spun around, ready and waiting, when Ian had pushed inside the warmth that belonged only to him, he had felt like he was finally home again.

“Ian?”

Blinking his eyes into focus, Ian pulled out of his thoughts long enough to notice Lip watching him in confusion.

“I’m fine,” he muttered. “Did you submit it?”

“Yeah, it’s just the basic version. Gives you twenty free messages,” Lip said as he scrolled down the website. “Shit, they work fast. You got three fucking messages already.”

Peering towards the screen, Ian grabbed the mouse and clicked the inbox open. “John Smith, fifty years old, looking for a casual romance.”

“Hey Sweet Boy. You look like you’re a lot of fun. Would love to pin you to my mattress,” Lip read the message with narrowed eyes. “The fuck is with these old guys flocking to you all the time? Fucking Kash, Ned and whoever the fuck else I don’t know about.”

“Can we move on?” Ian rolled his eyes.

“No! I should’ve kicked Kash’s ass back then, hard enough that Linda couldn’t pop another fucking kid.”

“Lip, that’s all in the fucking past. Can we focus on the present?”

“You think that shit doesn’t matter just ‘cause we never brought it up?” Lip asked.

Ian watched him for a moment before looking down. “Mick said that last night, about some other stuff.”

He quickly shook his head, stopping the thoughts that were building and focused on the screen again. “Rob Johnson, thirty-four, works at a bank.”

“Want to meet for drinks, Hottie? We can go back to my place so I can pound you,” Lip read the second message. “Why am I here again?”

“What the fuck's with people thinking I'm a bottom?” Ian scoffed, looking up in offense. 

“Guessing that means Mickey’s a bottom?” Lip asked but his face suddenly scrunched together. “Why the fuck did I just ask you that?”

“Yeah and just so you know, he’s the bossiest fucking bottom in all of Chicago,” Ian said before a sigh fell from his lips. “Everything about him is fucking perfect.”

When he looked up and saw his brother’s disturbed expression, Ian rolled his eyes and focused on the screen again.

“I’m learning a lot of shit about you and Mick I never wanted to know.”

Ignoring the comment, Ian pointed towards the next message. “Jeff Miller, twenty-nine years old, works at a gym. His message just says he wants to meet for drinks.”

“Guess he’s the least perverted of the three,” Lip relented. “The guy’s name is Jeff, not Jim.”

“Close enough. Doubt Mickey will notice,” Ian dismissed as his fingers moved across the keyboard, sending his reply.

“So your plan is to show up at the concert that Mickey’s guy of the moment invited you to all so you can make Mickey jealous with some poor idiot named Jeff,” Lip said as he leaned back in his chair. “Since you’re too chicken shit to deal with the actual problem, jealousy it is.”

“I want him back, Lip,” Ian replied, his fatigue slowly showing. “I want him back and if I gottta do this shit to make that happen before I deal with all the other shit, then that’s what I’m gonna do.”

“You spent years away from the guy and now you’re apart a few days, you can’t handle it?”

“Just ‘cause I never showed it to the rest of you doesn’t mean I didn’t miss him,” Ian muttered. “Besides, do I gotta remind you that you caught me sleeping in his shirt hugging a fucking pillow thinking it was him? Desperate times. I gotta get ready.”

“It’s in ten hours!” Lip exclaimed but Ian was already struggling up the stairs. “Jesus Christ.”

  
********  
  


Exiting the cab across from the Alibi, Ian glanced down at himself, licking his lips nervously. He was wearing his dark slacks and a grey tee with Mickey’s checkered flannel on top, hidden under a dark denim jacket. Lowering his nose to the flannel, he slowly breathed Mickey’s scent. His mind wandered to a memory, his smile softening as he remembered a day a couple weeks back when Mickey had first seen him wearing that jacket. His eyes had grown dark as he drank Ian in. They’d spent that morning in bed, bodies rocking together against the sheets, over and over again. It had been the rare morning when Paula had left them alone, before everything had changed.

A sudden shadow made him whip his head to the side to see a man standing beside him. The muscles were the first things Ian noticed, extreme and intense, bulging out of the man's jacket. 

“Hey, are you Jack?” Ian asked after an awkward pause.

The man’s face slightly fell but he quickly schooled his expression and smiled again. “It’s Jeff, actually. What happened to you?”

“My ex and I got into a fight,” Ian replied. “We were standing at the top of the stairs which sucked for me.”

“He pushed you down the stairs?”

“No, he was just really upset and punched me but I fell down the stairs after. The fall was just an accident,” Ian explained. “It sounds worse than it was.”

“Well, if he was here, I’d fuck him up for you, Gorgeous,” Jeff said as he leaned closer. “I’d take care of you, baby.”

“Pretty sure he could take you,” Ian said with a chuckle.

“Yeah?” Jeff replied, mistaking Ian’s candour for flirtation. “He got more muscles than me?”

Ian forced himself to keep his expression neutral as his date flexed his muscles in the streetlight shining down on them. When the modeling show got too awkward for Ian to handle, he cleared this throat and shuffled towards the club. Jeff’s shadow loomed over his shoulders from behind as they made their way inside. A small stage was set at the end of the room, the band standing at the mics, crooning for the crowd around them. Ignoring Jeff’s attempt to capture his attention, Ian glanced through the open space, looking past the sea of faces until his eyes landed on the one he wanted. With Byron bouncing on his heels to the music, a bored Mickey stood beside him, downing his beer without care.

Gripping tightly at his crutches, Ian started making his way through the crowd, Jeff rushing to keep up behind him. The moment Mickey’s eyes locked with his, Ian’s heart jolted at the smile he saw on his lover’s face. Before Ian could reach out, Mickey’s smile quickly vanished, eyes shooting daggers when the fourth of their group slipped an arm around Ian’s shoulders.

“Hey guys,” Ian greeted, forcing himself not to pull away. “This is John.”

“Thought you said his name was Jim,” Mickey said, brows rising high.

“Actually, it’s _Jeff_."

Ignoring the man beside him, Ian took a step closer to Mickey, tilting his chin towards the stage. “You having a good time?”

“Fucking swell,” Mickey replied, the phoney smile drawing a quiet chuckle from Ian.

“Come on, they’re not that bad. Music sounds decent.”

“Dude’s playing a fucking harp in the background,” Mickey said, pointing behind his shoulder. “Not exactly shit I listen to.”

Instead of answering, Ian reached for Mickey’s half empty beer. Wrapping his mouth around the edge, he tilted his head back and swallowed, smiling to himself when Mickey’s eyes followed the movement with rapt attention.

“Ian, baby, wanna grab a table?” Jeff’s voice cut through the fog they were caught in.

“Yeah, Ian, _baby_ , why don’t you and beefcake go grab a fucking table,” Mickey muttered, turning to face Byron. “Want another drink?”

“No, I’m good,” the smaller man replied, his smile growing when his eyes caught sight of Jeff.

Missing the moment, Mickey pushed his way through the crowd as Ian watched him go. When he felt an arm snake around his waist, Ian sighed and looked over.

“I’m gonna get a drink, too. You want anything?”

“I wouldn’t mind drinking you,” Jeff whispered, wiggling his brows for emphasis.

Forcing his face to remain neutral, Ian made a gesture towards the bar and quickly hobbled away. When his eyes caught on Mickey standing at an empty bar table, an untouched beer beside him, he steered away from the crowd and limped over.

“Hey,” he said, smiling softly when their eyes met again.

“Beefcake seems like a fucking catch,” Mickey replied, his face a practiced look of indifference. “Gonna have a fun time after? Just you and him?”

Instead of rising to the bait, Ian moved until he was standing with his body pressed up against Mickey from behind. 

“The fuck are you doing?” Mickey snapped.

Leaving his crutches against the wall, Ian slowly wrapped his arms around Mickey’s waist. Pressing in even closer, he nosed at his favorite spot behind Mickey’s ear. When no effort was made to stop him, Ian trailed his lips down. His teeth caught on the skin at Mickey’s neck and he tightened his arms at the quiet moan that filled his ears.

“Fuck, Mick,” Ian whispered. "Come home with me."

The words were like a bucket of cold water as Mickey untangled himself and spun around. “You want a quick fuck? Is that it?”

“What? No, Mick, that’s not what I want.”

“Pretty sure beefcake over there can take care of that,” Mickey spat, his voice a mix of hurt and bitter resentment. “Fuck, I thought you’d be dealing with whatever issues you had but here you fucking are, throwing some asshole in my face.”

“Like you’re not throwing Byron in mine?” Ian snapped, his own hurt bleeding through. “Think it’s easy for me, seeing you with someone else? It’s killing me!”

“Beefcake's presence says something else,” Mickey muttered, forgetting his beer as he started walking away.

“How do you know you love me?” Ian blurted, his words forcing Mickey to spin around. “How do you really know? I’m bipolar, right? I don’t know who I am from one day to the next. I can’t guarantee shit so why do you want to spend the rest of your life with me? Are _you_ fucking crazy?”

They stared at one another for a tense moment, the concert and movement around them going unnoticed.

“I mean, who else have you dated?” Ian asked, cutting Mickey off before he could answer. “No, not fucked. Dated. Been in love with. How could you possibly know that me, that _this_ , all of me, all the fucking versions I am, how do you know that, that’s what you want to spend the rest of your life with?”

He took a breath and waited.

“Jesus Christ, Ian,” Mickey sighed. “I always knew Gallaghers were fucked up but I have never been happier to be a Milkovich. You think you’re not fucking worth it? That you don’t deserve happiness or whatever the fuck?”

“Mick,” Ian started, his voice cracking as he spoke. “I’m Monica. I’m just like her.”

“You’re the farthest fucking thing from her!” Mickey snapped and ran a hand through his hair to rein his anger in. “You think if I didn’t really love you, if all I saw were all your fucked up versions, I’d keep coming back like a fucking idiot? I would’ve bailed the first fucking time but I _didn’t_ ‘cause this, you and me, it’s fucking worth everything.” He took a step back and shook his head, eyes glistening in the lights shining down on them. “You’re _not_ her. But me telling you means shit if you don’t wanna believe it.”

“Wait!” Ian pleaded, reaching out to grab his arm. “I’m sorry, I know I’m fucking this up. But I’m scared, Mickey. I’m scared I’ll fuck this up even worse than I already have.”

“Ian, either you love me for real which means meeting me half the fucking way and working through all the stuff you got rolling around in your head or you really don’t give a shit.”

“I’m not saying never,” Ian managed.

“No, you’re just saying you don’t love me enough _now_ ,” Mickey finished, slowly pulling his arm away. “That’s fine, Gallagher. It’s cool. I got Byron now and you got the fucking jerk you came with.”

Before Ian could protest, Mickey had already walked away. He stood back and watched, shoulders dropping helplessly as Mickey pointed towards the door to Byron. With a longing glance back at the band, Byron quickly turned to follow.

“Fuck!” Ian cursed, following them with measured footsteps.

When he was back on the sidewalk moments later, his eyes caught them bursting through the Alibi doors across the street. Swallowing the thickness in his throat, he started making his way over when a large arm wrapped around him, tugging him backwards.

“There you are,” Jeff smiled into his neck. “Where you going, baby?”

“Look, this isn’t happening,” Ian started.

“Yeah, I know, the band’s decent enough but not my vibe,” Jeff nodded. “Wanna get out of here? Go back to my place? Maybe go for a drive?”

“I want a drink,” Ian said, untangling himself and limping down the pathway.

“Yeah, baby, drink sounds good,” Jeff said as he rushed to follow.

Rolling his eyes hard at the pet name, Ian made his way to the other side of the street. The moment they stepped through the Alibi doors, Ian looked around to see Mickey tossing his head back at the sight of them.

“Want me to get you a drink, baby?” Jeff asked, his leering smile back in place.

“Hey, Ian,” V greeted, moving to his side with a confused look on her face. “I got a lot of questions for you, kid.”

“Beer sounds good,” Ian said to Jeff, waiting until the other man had disappeared before he switched his attention.

“You look kinda tired. Wanna sit down, Hon?” V asked, steering him towards an empty table and taking the spot beside him. “So, why’s Mickey over there with some guy and you’re over here with another guy? You guys doing an open relationship?”

“No! Like I’d ever fucking share him!” Ian exclaimed, his jealousy making V laugh in amusement.

“Then what’s the deal? Debbie said something about you guys going through a rough patch.”

“We broke up,” Ian said, all the fight leaving him. “He broke up with me.”

“Mickey broke up with _you_?” V repeated. “What the fuck did you do? Didn’t think it was possible for him to ever walk away from you.”

The words made the guilt inside Ian expand. “Some shit happened with my parole officer and I panicked a little. I proposed ‘cause I thought us getting married would keep each other out of jail but I love him too, you know? Then when the problem I thought we had disappeared…”

“You changed your mind?” V finished. “Did you give him a ring or something?”

“No,” Ian replied, his voice growing soft. “But we were at the Courthouse, about to sign the marriage license and I hesitated.”

“That’s all kinds of shitty!" V exclaimed.

“I just didn’t want us to make a mistake,” Ian replied quietly. “He thinks that means I don’t love him, I don’t wanna be with him, commit to him. But fuck, Lip was right. I’m just fucking scared.”

“Scared of what, honey?” V frowned, reaching out to touch his hand.

“That I’ll be a fucking burden. That I’ll be just like Monica and fuck things up even worse,” Ian said, his eyes shining as he shook his head. “I’ve already hurt him so many fucking times. I don’t wanna do that again.”

“Ian, Hon, maybe you’re not seeing things too clearly but you already _are_ hurting him,” V said, tilting her head towards the other table. “Does Mickey look happy to you over there? Does he look jealous or whatever else you were trying to accomplish with Muscle Man?”

When Ian looked over, all he saw was a sadness that matched his own as Mickey stared into thin air. His shoulders were lowered and defeated. He looked tired and hurt, completely heartbroken.

“Fuck,” Ian exclaimed.

“I’m not gonna tell you what to do. All I’m gonna say is I want you to remember this place. This fucking room,” V started, waiting until his eyes met hers before speaking again. “Kevin told me what went down that night. That man over there, the man that you’ve been in love with since you were kids if what Fiona told me is real, _that_ man stood here in this very bar and came out to a room full of homophobic, violent thugs. Terry was a fucking nightmare and Mickey stood here and came out and he did it for _you_. Just take a second and really think about that, think about what it meant back then, what it means even now.”

Ian swallowed hard, his eyes drifting back towards Mickey again.

“Knowing Terry the way I do, the man has always been brutal. Used to hear stories all the time about the shit he did to his kids,” V added.

“You don’t know the half of it,” Ian said quietly.

“You’re right, I don’t. But _you_ do,” V nodded. “Just saying that he did that for you. Sure, it was for himself too. He was finally free, right? That shit means a fucking lot. But at that moment, standing here in this bar, he did it for _you_ , didn’t he?”

“Yeah, he did,” Ian nodded, looking towards her with a tearful gaze.

“Then maybe you could do the same,” V suggested. “If you love him the way I think you do, maybe you need to be the one making that gesture now. He stuck with you through it all before, remember? Now it’s your turn to stick with him.”

She rose to her feet and kissed the side of his head, standing up straight moments later with a Motherly smile as she watched him.

“I hate the life you kids have had,” she said, a lingering sadness in her tone that he could recognize. “I see Frank coming in here all the time, drunk, another scheme up his ass, hardly ever giving a shit. Most the time, I got so much of my own shit to worry about that I forget. But sometimes, I look at my own babies and it hits me. The shit you all had to grow up in.”

Her touch was gentle as she pushed a loose strand of hair out of his face.

“You boys love each other. Don’t let any of this extra fucking stuff get in the way. It’s nothing more than background noise in the end.”

The sound of footsteps made them look past her shoulder to see Jeff making his way towards them. With a roll of her eyes, she tilted her head towards the burly man.

“Think it’s time to kick this one to the curb,” she whispered and disappeared towards the bar.

Ian smiled as he watched her go, his attention pulling back to his own table when Jeff pushed a beer and basket of fries towards him.

“Bartender’s slow as shit,” Jeff grumbled but he quickly smirked as he leaned in. “You look better than a happy meal.”

“Did you just compare me to fast food?” Ian asked, brows furrowed together.

“It’s a compliment, you sexy McChicken.”

“What the fuck?” Ian muttered.

“Eat up, you’re gonna need your energy,” Jeff replied, emptying the ketchup over the basket.

Ignoring the idiocy beside him, Ian looked away and found Mickey’s eyes without delay. The jealousy was no longer there, only a sadness that Ian felt embracing his own heart and spirit. It echoed the same heartbreak that Mickey’s eyes had held when Ian had broken up with him all those years back; when Ian had been bitter and cold across the prison glass; when Ian had broken the news about Mexico; in the Courthouse when Ian had hesitated.

Their gaze broke when Mickey looked away but the damage had already been done. Everything inside Ian hurt. All he wanted was to take Mickey’s pain away and end his own, to pull the man he loved back into his arms and whisper nothing but promises. He just wanted to hold him, to love him, to never let him go again.

With Jeff going off about his latest muscle enhancements, Ian let his gaze wander across the bar, V’s words of advice coming back to him. When his eyes fell on the counter at the very end, the memory came in an instant.

_“I just wanted to let you know that I’m leaving,” Ian said, lowering his beer._

_“Okay, I’ll see you back at the place,” Mickey nodded, his relief obvious._

_“No, don’t. We’re done,” Ian said, the finality in his voice making Mickey’s eyes blink in panic._

_“What the fuck are you talking about?”_

_“I don’t have any interest in being a mistress anymore,” Ian said with a shrug._

_“Jesus Christ, when did you get so dramatic?” Mickey muttered._

_“When I realized what a pussy you are.”_

_Mickey eyed him for a moment and took a small step backwards. “Say it again, I’m gonna kick your fucking ass.”_

_“Come on. Come on, big guy. You think you’re a tough man? You’re not,” Ian said as he closed the distance between them, their noses touching. “You’re a coward.”_

_“Fuck you!” Mickey spat, pushing him back a few inches. “You don’t understand this at all.”_

_“Oh, I do understand. I understand better than anyone that you’re afraid of you’re Father, you’re afraid of your wife,” Ian whispered, pressing a finger against Mickey’s chest. “You’re afraid to be who you are.”_

_He grabbed his jacket and quickly made his exit, steering his footsteps towards the door. When he heard Mickey slapping at the counter seconds later, he froze in the doorway. A part of him wanted to give in to the sudden hope that leapt in his heart but he readied himself for disappointment as he slowly turned back around. Terry was sitting with a girl on his lap and friends at his side, smoke dangling from his lips as he eyed his son in confusion. Svetlana was seated behind the others, watching the scene with her jaw wide open._

_“Can I have everyone’s attention please?” Mickey asked, waiting for the noise to die down. “I just want everybody here to know I’m fucking gay. A big old ‘mo. I just thought everybody should know that.”_

_Ian’s eyes widened from his spot at the door. The entire bar was silent, everyone watching the scene unfold with an eery calmness. Kevin stood behind the bar completely frozen, staring between the different Milkovich generations. When Mickey looked up and his eyes met Ian's, nothing else mattered in that moment. Ian felt his breath catch, the hope he’d been clinging to no longer a dream but a truth made real from the sudden confession._

_“You happy now?” Mickey asked him._

Snapping out of the memory, Ian could hear Jeff talking in the background but all he could focus on was that moment from years ago. In the brief seconds before the fight had erupted, Ian had seen the mixture of pain, relief and desperation staring back at him. He had been too focused on his own insecurities back then, his own anguish at keeping things secret that he never fully focused on how selfish his ultimatum had been. Mickey had been harsh when they had been younger, treating their relationship with careless dismissal. He could never forget that day outside the warehouse when the pain Ian had felt in his heart had hurt far greater than anything inflicted by Mickey’s fists. But Ian had always known. Through all the pain and separation, the anger and confusion, through all the difficulties leading up to that Alibi moment, he had always known.

When Monica had returned, Ian had ran to the Milkovich house for comfort. Back then, things between them had been so new, so fresh without any emotional entanglements. Instead of slamming the door in his face like Ian had half expected, Mickey had surprised him. They had gone to the grocery store and with Linda leaving for the day, Mickey had given himself to Ian the only way he knew how. The physical comfort had been all he could give but as Ian had wrapped his hand around Mickey’s, moving into the warmth of his body, he had realized the striking difference. They were no longer teens screwing around, blowing off steam whenever they wanted. Their hearts had grown entangled and in that single moment of comfort, everything between them had deepened.

The greatest obstacle those days had been Terry’s violent influence and Mickey’s deep-rooted fears because of him. When Terry had caught them at the Milkovich house, everything that followed the brutal beating were moments neither of them would ever forget. What Terry had forced on his son made the bile rise in Ian's throat. The hatred Ian felt for Milkovich senior was one for the record books. Not even Frank could take his place. For so long after that horrific day, things between them had changed. Svetlana, the forced marriage, Yevgeny. Ian thought he would never hold Mickey in his arms again, that he would never kiss him, fuck or make love to him, laugh together or smile again. He had left for the army completely shattered, his heart a bleeding mess.

Finding each other again despite the pain in their past had been a sign to Ian. He had tried being patient, tried accepting the scraps of time they shared against the ring tied like a noose on Mickey’s hand but his frustration had eventually won over, leading to his ultimatum. Every night Mickey spent over had felt like Heaven but every morning he left was a stabbing pain to Ian's gut that he couldn’t amend. He knew he had been right, pushing for things to change, taking a stand, demanding for more to their relationship. But the way he had gone about it made Ian’s heart hurt all over again. Mickey had stood in the Alibi and faced his greatest fear, all because he loved him. Instead of cherishing that gift, that treasure of Mickey giving himself and their love a fighting chance, Ian had nearly destroyed it.

The bipolar, he gave himself a break. They had both been so young and the disease so new. Mistakes he had made from cheating to kidnapping Yev, he knew Mickey had forgiven. But with all his other choices, he had squandered away the only happiness he had every truly known. His reasons for making those choices no longer made sense.

Mickey’s marriage to Svetlana, and the horrifying way that had started, would have steered a lesser person away from the thought of matrimony, forever and always. But Mickey had worked through his trauma and he'd seen the best things that came from that level of commitment. He wanted to marry Ian, simply because he loved him. Ian’s reasons for hesitating at the Courthouse, for the distance that had emerged between them and his fears of making that dedication no longer echoed as loudly as they did. For the first time in days, his fears were suddenly quiet. Looking up, all Ian could see was Mickey sitting across the bar, close but so far away. All he could see was their happiness slipping from his fingers. After so many gestures Mickey had made, V had been right. So had Lip. It was finally Ian’s turn to do the same.

Their devotion to one another ran deep, a love that was true and pure, one that could never be changed. All Ian wanted was to wake up curled together in blankets, breathing in the scent that had always soothed him as they kissed each other awake. He wanted to make love in the mornings and fuck Mickey hard when darkness came. Mickey may have been the one with the visible tattoo, Ian’s named etched across his skin but Ian’s heart held the same sentiment. Caleb, Trevor, Kash, Ned and everyone in between were mere placeholders from the true love Ian had nearly destroyed from his own mistakes. But he was done being afraid. He was done letting Mickey think that his love for Ian was a one way street, that all of his sacrifices and gestures had been made for nothing. He was done letting his fears stop them from having their happiness.

In that moment a week before, standing in the Courthouse, Ian had been uncertain. He had loved Mickey but his fears about Frank, Monica and his bipolar had been too loud to ignore or dismiss. Sitting at the Alibi now, at the same spot as one of the most important moments in the decade of their relationship, Ian was never more sure of anything.

“So what do you think, Gorgeous?”

Snapping his head to the side, Ian stared into his date’s face for a brief second before a smile curved his lips.

“Sorry, but this ain’t gonna happen,” he said, pushing his chair backwards.

“That’s alright. You wanna just go straight to fucking?”

“No!” Ian exclaimed. “I’m a fucking idiot and I just realized it right now.”

“So we’re not fucking?” Jeff asked, his brows furrowed in confusion.

“See that guy over there?” Ian pointed towards Mickey. “That’s the only guy I’m ever fucking again.”

“Your abusive ex?”

“My fucking soulmate,” Ian snapped. “You ever call him that again and I’ll bust those fake fucking muscles wide open.”

With Jeff’s mouth hanging wide, Ian reached for his crutches and spun around. The regulars were sitting at the counter, busy with their beers, throwing jabs at one anther. Kev and V were behind the bar, sharing kisses and laughs like always. He heard Jeff curse as he stormed outside but it was nothing more than background noise to Ian’s ears. The moment the doors slammed, the sound drew Mickey’s gaze towards him. They stared at one another, their gaze unflinching, the rest of the bar disappearing around them.

“Mick,” Ian finally started, swallowing hard as he moved closer. “I love you.”

Mickey’s shoulders dropped as he sat defeated, beaten at his own game. He looked up to meet Ian’s eyes again but before he could open his mouth to comment, Ian raised his hand to stop him. Stumbling across the bar, he reached for the jukebox and yanked the plug from the outlet. The music died with a sudden screech, making the noisy crowd spin to face him.

“Ian, buddy, love you but what are you doing, man?” Kevin asked but instead of answering, Ian made his way back over, slamming his hand on an empty table.

“Can I have everyone’s attention please?” he shouted, waiting until the noise had died before he looked down at Mickey again. “I gotta say something and I need you to hear me when I say it.”

“The fuck are you doing?” Mickey asked, eyes scanning their surroundings.

Ian looked towards Byron who was watching them with a curious gaze. “Sorry if I’m being an ass or whatever but me and Mick are endgame. This shit is gonna stop right here, right now. You gotta leave.”

With a quiet nod of understanding, Byron reached out and pat Mickey on his shoulder as he rose to his feet. Smiling kindly, he grabbed his jacket and slid across the bar, disappearing outside within seconds.

Ignoring the eyes from the crowd, Ian took a breath and leaned closer. “I _love_ you.”

“Gallagher, would you shut up and stop making a fucking scene?” Mickey muttered as he climbed to his feet.

“You came out in this bar, remember?” Ian blurted, the words stopping Mickey in his tracks. “You stood right here in front of Terry and all those other assholes and came out and the biggest reason you did it was because of me.”

“Oh my God,” V whispered, clasping her hands together in excitement.

“Aren’t you already out?” one of the regulars tossed the question but he quickly whined when V smacked the back of his head.

“You had a lot of fucking reasons to be scared, reasons you and I both know about but you faced those fears for me,” Ian said, licking his lips nervously. “Now I gotta do the same.”

Slowly turning around, Mickey’s gaze was intense, boring holes through Ian’s skin. “Outside.”

“No, I need to do this here,” Ian replied, laughing through the tears that were building. “When you and me first started a fucking decade ago, we were teens running around, keeping everything a fucking secret. At first, that’s all I thought it was, just us having fun, blowing off steam. But then it changed. You fucking mattered to me.”

“Jesus Christ, can we do this without the fucking audience?” Mickey grumbled.

“Hey everyone?” V shouted, waiting until all eyes were focused on her before she spoke again. “Anyone here a homophobic prick?”

Three men rose to their feet, mumbling their bitter comments. Sharing a look with Kevin, V grabbed the baseball bat she kept hidden and smacked it hard against the counter.

“Then get the fuck out of my bar!”

The men stumbled towards the door, throwing jabs as they went. The moment the dust had settled, V lowered the bat and gave a thumbs up towards them.

“Fuck my life,” Mickey muttered, watching as all eyes focused on them again.

“Mick,” Ian started. “It was so easy for me to fall in love with you, even when I thought you’d never come out. I couldn’t stop it if I tried. All that shit with Terry and Lana, me leaving for the army, it was all so fucked up but then we really had a chance. You stood here in this room and gave us that chance and I fucked it up over and over again. I walked away, thinking it was the right choice every time but it wasn’t. I closed my heart off when you were gone, tried to find replacements but they were placeholders, Mick. No one’s ever come close.”

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God,” V whispered, her excitement loud in the silence.

“Look, you don’t gotta do this,” Mickey said with a tired smile. “It’s cool, alright?”

“Mick, would you shut up and fucking listen?” Ian cut him off. “You came back after you escaped prison and I had a life. I was with someone, I had a job, I was stable. On the outside, everything was fine but it wasn’t. I saw you and my fucking heart started beating again. It’s like I was walking through my life looking at shit through a blurry lens but then you came back and shit suddenly made sense. But I fucked it up. Going with you to Mexico, it scared me, Mick. Not knowing if we could find my meds, knowing the shit I did to you last time when I was off them. I hesitated, panicked, thought I made the right choice. But I made you think I didn’t love you the way you love me and I hate myself for it. Mick, I love you more than anything.”

Mickey’s breath was sharp as he ran a hand across his eyes and looked away.

“You coming back to be with me in prison, to look out for me, it fucking meant everything. I know I’m shit at saying this stuff but I wanna change that. I want you to know how much it meant, how much _you_ mean to me,” Ian continued as he took another step closer, his eyes glistening. “I was so scared that you and me would end up like Frank and Monica and it pissed me off that you weren’t getting it. But what you were asking me for is commitment and you got every right to ask it.”

Mickey watched him for a tense moment, his eyes critical. “You’re not her. None of your fucking versions are.”

“I know,” Ian said, his smile genuine. “All you wanna do is love me, Mickey, and you want me to love you the same way and I do. I fucking love you in ways that scare the shit out of me sometimes but I don’t wanna be afraid anymore. I just wanna be happy. I want _us_ to be happy.”

Using his crutches to help him, Ian slowly lowered himself to the floor, letting his bad leg settle behind him as he rose up on one knee.

“The fuck are you doing?” Mickey asked, grabbing his waist to yank him upwards but Ian swatted his hands away.

He could hear V crying in the background and looked over to see it was Kevin. Laughing at the craziness of the moment, Ian focused his eyes forward and met Mickey’s gaze again.

“I wanna marry you.”

“Ian…,” Mickey started, staring down as his eyes began to glisten.

“No, Mick, I wanna _marry_ you,” he repeated. “Not because you’re the only one who wants it but because I want it, too. I wanna marry you because I love you, because I trust you, because you make me feel safe. My heart beats because of you and feels peace in the same way.”

“Jesus Christ,” Mickey whispered, his voice breaking as he blinked against his wet eyes.

“I wanna sign a marriage certificate and let it mean more than a piece of paper,” Ian said, swallowing hard at his rising emotions. “My bipolar is never going away and where we are, who we are, where we live, shit will always fucking happen. But you and me? That’s the one thing that’s always made sense.”

“Say yes, say yes!” V screeched, bouncing up and down on her feet.

Ian laughed as he reached for the chain around his neck. He pulled at the two silver rings and looked up to see a world of emotions staring back at him.

“Mikhailo Aleksandr Milkovich,” he started, smile widening when Mickey rolled his eyes despite the moment. “I’m kneeling down on a broken fucking leg, asking you to marry me. I’m asking you to trust me one last fucking time and let me get this right.”

“This shit’s permanent, you know? One time deal,” Mickey suddenly said, tilting his chin towards the rings. “Can’t take this shit back.”

“I don’t wanna take it back. I want you to be my husband,” Ian smiled. “I want us to be together through thick and thin, good times, bad, sickness, health and all that shit.”

Mickey chuckled at the vow, the happiness of the moment erasing the pain of a memory those words were entangled with.

“Marry me,” Ian finished, reaching out to tangle their hands together. “What do you say?”

“Fuck,” Mickey whispered, scrubbing his free hand roughly across his face. “The fuck you think my answer is?”

Grinning broadly, Ian slipped a ring across Mickey’s finger, his breath catching when the second wrapped around his own. Reaching down for Ian’s arms, Mickey pulled him to his feet, his fingers curling at the edges of his jacket.

“Fuck you, Gallagher,” he muttered but the smile in his eyes made Ian's heart expand.

Aware of the cheering crowd around them, their foreheads pressed together as they closed their eyes and breathed each other in.

“Free drinks on the house!” Kevin hollered and the bar erupted into even louder cheers. “To butt buddies!”

“Butt buddies!” the bar shouted, raising their glasses in the air.

“Fuck you all!” Mickey snapped, lifting a finger above his head.

Ian’s laugh was loud and untamed as he drew Mickey closer and slid his arms around his shoulders. The rest of the bar faded in the background as they stood against each other, the space between their bodies removed, neither pulling away. When Kevin plugged the jukebox back in and made a selection, the music that started playing made Ian lean away with a laugh.

"Think it's a good sign?" he grinned, watching as Mickey shook his head, their eyes shining as Love Is A Battlefield filled the open space.

“I got the good shit! Champagne!” V exclaimed, lifting a bottle from the back cabinet.

“Thanks, guys, but I think we’re gonna head out,” Ian replied.

Ignoring the sounds of complaints, Mickey pulled back and gave a nod. Reaching for the crutches, he held both in his hand and slid an arm around Ian’s waist. The answering smile made Mickey look away in embarrassment but Ian pulled him closer, sliding an arm across his shoulders. Ian gave a wave of goodbye before they slipped out into the darkness. The second the doors shut behind them, Ian leaned his head down and finally captured Mickey’s lips. Their hold on one another didn’t change but their lips stayed fused together, a sweetness to the kiss that matched the significance of the moment.

A sudden groan made them break apart and they turned their attention towards the alley. Curiosity pushed them forward but they quickly froze when they saw Byron pressed against the wall with Jeff between his legs.

“When the fuck did that happen?” Mickey chuckled.

“Don’t matter,” Ian shrugged, pushing Mickey back down the street. “You’re going home with me. Don’t give a shit about the rest.”

Mickey smirked as he stuck his hand out in the air, waving a taxi from the other end. When they were sitting in the backseat and the driver had pulled between the light traffic, Ian tilted his head, eyes shining, and leaned in. The kiss was stronger than the last, their tongues sliding together, neither caring that they had an audience. When the heat began to rise between them, Mickey tore his lips away, his smile refusing to fade.

“Can’t believe you proposed at the fucking Alibi.”

“It’s where you came out,” Ian reminded, his smile gentle. “You chose us that night. You chose to be with me for real, you chose our life together, our happiness. I wanted to do the same.”

Mickey lowered his forehead to Ian’s shoulder, closing his eyes and leaving a kiss against his jacket. Smiling at the tenderness, Ian buried his nose into Mickey’s hair, inhaling his scent and leaving a kiss of his own. When they paid the driver minutes later, they helped each other inside the house, their lips never breaking for a second.

“Looks like the lovers made up,” Lip quipped from the couch, Tami under his arm with Freddie bouncing on his legs.

Neither bothered to answer, pulling away from each other long enough to stumble up the stairs. Spinning Mickey around, Ian dropped his crutches to the floor as he pinned him to the wall. He let his mouth latch onto the neck he had years ago claimed as his own, leaving bruises between his kisses as he trailed his lips down.

“Fuck,” Mickey whispered, the coarseness in his voice making Ian’s body react. “Get inside the bedroom, man.”

“Make sure you close the fucking door this timer!” Debbie shouted from across the hallway.

Holding onto Mickey for support, Ian moved him backwards towards their bedroom, slamming the door shut behind them. Their lips met again as Mickey’s hands reached for Ian’s jacket. When his eyes caught sight of the checkered flannel underneath, he stopped and pulled away.

“That mine?” 

Ian slowly glanced down, eyes catching on the shirt he had woken up in, the shirt that smelled like Mickey, the shirt that smelled like home.

“I just…,” Ian started, flushing. “I missed you.”

He looked up and froze, the softness in Mickey’s eyes piercing through him. How had he ever let his fears get in the way of having this man in his life. His lover. His boyfriend. His family, fiancé and best friend. His _husband_. With a smile that matched the happiness he felt inside, Ian leaned down and brushed their lips together again.

“Fuck, I missed you,” Mickey whispered as they moved towards the bed.

Kneeling down, Mickey helped remove the brace, his hands gentle in their movements. Ian watched him from above, his heart jolting at the tenderness. Their touches were slow and measured, both wanting to savor the moment, recognizing the importance. When their bodies were stripped bare, Mickey moved to the mattress and laid down, watching as Ian slowly lowered himself to cover his body. With a deep breath, Mickey slowly began to move on his side but Ian held a hand out to stop him.

“No,” he said, voice gentle. “On your back, Mick. Just like this.”

Reaching for Mickey’s legs, Ian slowly slid them open and lowered himself between. When they touched for the first time in days, their eyes fluttered shut, Mickey’s arms wrapping around Ian’s shoulders to hold him close.

“Do we…?” Ian started, hating that he had to ask the question but promising himself to accept the answer. “Do we need a condom?”

Mickey tilted his head to the side, their eyes locking in the silence. When a smile slipped onto Mickey’s face followed by a single shake of his head, Ian felt the last of his anxiety melt away. Lifting Mickey's ringed hand, Ian laced their fingers together, his thumb stroking the skin with a gentle caress.

“Permanent,” he repeated. “Means I’m the only one that’ll ever fuck you, Mickey, and you’re the only one I’ll ever want to be with.”

“Shut up and get on me,” Mickey chuckled but the blush on his face gave him away as Ian reached for the lube.

When they were ready, Ian slid his arms under Mickey’s shoulders, pressing their lips together as he slid in. The tightness set his heart ablaze but he forced himself to stay still, giving Mickey the few seconds he needed. When Mickey nuzzled his cheek and sighed against his ear, Ian lost the last bit of reserve he held. Keeping the weight off his bad leg, Ian tightened his arms and began thrusting in earnest. Their bodies rocked together as Mickey slid one hand down Ian’s back, the other tangling in his hair and pulling at the strands.

“I missed you so fucking much,” Ian managed, trailing his lips across Mickey’s chest, leaving a kiss over his heart before his teeth caught on the skin of his neck, staking his claim.

When he felt Mickey wrap his legs around him, Ian’s control shattered. His movements grew erratic, pushing harder into the tightness that felt like home. As fast as their bodies moved, their kisses were gentle, tongues sliding together in a gentle caress. With one final kiss, Ian grazed his lips against the spot behind Mickey’s ear. He smiled when he heard the moan, the sound touching him deep inside, a part that yearned to claim Mickey as his own for the world to see. One final thrust and their bodies arched together off the bed, falling off the edge as waves of pleasure overtook them.

Climbing back down from their high, Ian lifted on his elbows and peered down, slowly pulling out. Mickey’s eyes were squeezed shut, completely blissed, and the openness on his face made Ian lean down to capture his lips.

“I love you.”

Mickey’s eyes slid open and Ian felt his heart jolt. The eyes staring back at him were no longer afraid or worried, heartbroken or pained. Mickey was gazing up at him with a love that Ian wanted to hold onto with both hands, a love that matched the feeling inside his own heart.

“I love you,” Ian repeated, his fingers lifting to bury in Mickey’s hair. “Fuck, I love you.”

“I love you too,” Mickey finally said, a smirk curving his lips. “Still can’t believe you wore my shirt on a date with another dude.”

“Not like I was gonna leave with the guy,” Ian chuckled. “Wanted to make you jealous.”

“It fucking worked. Was ready to kick the shit out of that asshole,” Mickey muttered. “Break every one of his fucking knuckles.”

Ian smiled softly, his thumb brushing against the bruise he had made in Mickey’s neck. “Guess I’m not the only possessive one.”

“You wore my fucking shirt,” Mickey snorted. "Think the fucking crown belongs to you."

_“He wore it to bed, too, and hugged a pillow thinking it was you!”_

Mickey laughed at Lip’s sudden voice coming from the hallway. Blushing at the revealed confession, Ian made a noise of complaint.

“Fuck off, Lip!”

The door burst open and Lip rolled his eyes at the state he caught them in. Ian reached for the blanket shoved to the side and covered their bodies after a shout of protest.

“Need something?” Mickey asked, casually reaching for a smoke as if Ian wasn’t lying naked on top of him.

“I heard a lot of moaning I’ll never be able to clear from my brain,” Lip replied and looked towards his brother. “Thank you for that, Ian.”

“Hey, Mickey moaned too!” Ian protested and laughed at the sudden smack behind his head.

Instead of an angry glare he was expecting, Ian’s heart softened when he saw the fondness in Mickey’s gaze instead.

“Whatever,” Lip cut in. “All I’m saying is I got ammunition on you, little bro. Don’t think I won’t use that shit.”

“Look, if you’re done being a little bitch, can you fuck off so we can get round two started?” Mickey asked, taking the smoke from his mouth and slipping it between Ian’s.

“Brain bleach. That's what I fucking need,” Lip muttered, slamming the door behind him.

“We need our own fucking place,” Ian muttered as they moved the smoke between them. “This small bedroom ain’t good enough. Between Carl's friends and Debbie's lovers and fucking Frank, this place has a revolving door, people coming in and out all the fucking time. I want us to have a place of our own.”

"Need to save money for that shit," Mickey reminded, stubbing the smoke out in the ashtray.

He turned on his side and their bodies drew together under the blanket. Their mouths found each other like always, the kiss a tender touch of lips.

“When do you wanna get married?” Ian asked when they leaned back, sliding his good leg between Mickey’s and smiling at the quiet moan when their bodies pressed together.

“Whenever you want, man.”

“Can we do it soon?” Ian asked, eyes hopeful.

Mickey’s smile was genuine as he brought his hand to Ian’s face. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

“Where do you wanna do it?”

“Not the fucking Courthouse,” Mickey said, his fight coming back in an instant.

Ian laughed at the sudden switch. “Not the fucking Courthouse. I got it."

“Maybe,” Mickey started, clearing his throat. “Maybe we can get a Minister at a park or a garden or something. That shit possible?”

Ian’s smile widened as he moved closer. “Yeah, I like that. We gonna invite anyone?”

“Guess some of your fucked up family can come,” Mickey shrugged. “I could call Mandy, she’d eat this shit up. Sandy too, I guess.”

“Don’t you have another cousin named Brandy?” Ian chuckled. “And that other cousin, twice removed, named Randy?”

“Fuck off,” Mickey exclaimed but the laughter died when Ian slid their lips together again.

Pushing Mickey onto his back, Ian slid between his legs and smiled, leaning over him on his elbows.

“That reminds me. You gonna take my name?” he asked and the sudden look on Mickey’s face made Ian chuckle. “The fuck’s wrong with taking my name?”

“You could fucking take mine,” Mickey argued.

“Alright, how about a compromise. Put ‘em together,” Ian suggested.

“You say some weird shit like Gallavich and you ain’t ever getting near my ass again,” Mickey threatened.

“I meant Milkovich-Gallagher, hyphenated,” Ian laughed.

Mickey looked to the side and nodded, the weight of the words heavy in the moment. “Yeah, man, that’s good.”

Smiling broadly, Ian pulled his face back towards his own, eyes locking for the hundredth time that day. “Milkovich-Gallagher it is. I love you.”

“Love you too,” Mickey said, the words a whispered vow between them.

When Ian leaned down and slid his lips across the tattoo, he felt Mickey's heart flutter in his chest. Their smiles were gentle, the weight they’d been carrying no longer a burden. Lowering his face to Mickey’s neck, he smiled when a pair of arms wrapped around him, strong and protective. They were together, happy and in love. Everything they had been through, all the obstacles they had faced had led them to that moment. For the first time in years, Ian was no longer afraid.


End file.
